


Recalled

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Challenge: Merry Month of Masterbation, M/M, None - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 03:45:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair gets a little bored working on a lonely Sunday afternoon.<br/>This story is a sequel to Floored.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recalled

## Recalled

by Chaomath

Before you read: This is just a short piece in answer to the Merry Month of May challenge. You might want to read "Floored" before this, otherwise you'll miss some of the references. 

Disclaimers. The elusive Blair Sandburg snuggled into my bed one night (well, a girl can dream, can't she?) and wouldn't let me sleep until I wrote this down. Needless to say, I don't own these characters -- the lucky people at Pet Fly Productions and Paramount do. They are simply being borrowed without permission, but no infringement is intended. I'm not making a dime off of this (and neither should you, dear reader). However, I hold the copyright on the words that follow. 

Warnings. OK, this bit of slash features graphic descriptions of onanism. (Dont'cha just love those SAT-style words?) If the thought of this offends you, there are plenty of other things to read in the world. Go find some. Current US law seems to indicate that people under the age of 18 shouldn't be allowed to read this. I may not agree with this sentiment, but you've been adequately warned so I've done my duty. 

Author's Notes. This is a little extra piece that I never planned on writing, but the previous story, "Floored", practically begged me to do it. As usual, I welcome _all_ comments. Try to be kind, though. Constructive criticism is welcomed -- but outright flames will simply be mocked until I get bored. And thanks again to Charly for beta-ing for me. All mistakes are mine. 

* * *

Recalled  
by Chaomath   
copyright 1997 

Blair sprawled across his cluttered desk at the university, revising a committee meeting report. It was hard to stay awake in the overheated office, and he hadn't accomplished much in the past hour. Suddenly annoyed, he sat up. [What a waste of time. My faculty committee is supposed to help me, not give me little make-work tasks so they feel like they're doing something. Arrogant bastards.] 

Blair knew he was overreacting, but he was tired and frustrated. [This is just pissing me off. I give up.] He looked around the packed office to find something else to do and spotted a warning letter from the library on top of the most precarious pile. Picking it up, he made a sour face at the officious language of the recall notice. [At least I remembered to finally bring the book back with me. And within the two-week grace period, even.] 

He located his backpack and dug out the book. Had he even opened it since he checked it out? It was such a dry, technical book. Anthropology was so much more interesting than books like this suggested. He flipped the pages of the book, and a few pieces of lined paper fluttered to the ground. 

[I don't remember this] he thought as he bent down to pick them up. Before his hand closed on pages, it came back to him and he stopped abruptly. [Oh. Right. Now I remember.] Reluctantly, he picked up the folded sheets. 

It was the stuff he'd written about that dream -- the one with Jim. He recalled that first, hellish week when every little thing reminded him of it. But in the following months he'd gradually managed to forget about it. Well, maybe not forget, exactly. At least, he wasn't obsessing about it. But he had forgotten about stuffing the sheets in this book. [Geez, that was dumb. I could have returned the book to the library with that still inside!] He silently thanked whatever god had rescued him from that fate. 

Blair unfolded the sheets and sat down at his desk again. He started reading his account of the dream and found himself getting aroused. [Well, it was _quite_ a dream.] The building was quiet; typical Sunday afternoon stillness when no one came in to work. He could hear the compressor of the fridge in the lunchroom cycle on and off. No one was around. He put the pages on the desk in front of him and the slanting sunlight came in through the dirty window to highlight particular phrases... 

"that no clothes separated us when" 

"could feel him against me" 

"to kiss him was" 

Blair pushed his chair back from the desk in frustration. [Why did I have to find this now?] The warmth of the sun was making him uncomfortable. His mind wandered, replaying the dream. Then his hand wandered, too, and he began to stroke himself through the thick denim of his jeans. He could feel the sweat breaking out on his forehead and along the back of his neck. [Damn, it is getting hot in here.] The sun had moved so it was falling across his thighs. It felt like it was burning through him. [Like I felt when Jim touched me in the dream.] 

Blair shook his head at that last thought. [Come on, Sandburg, get back to work.] But he knew he wasn't going to be able to work in this condition. In fact, the tight jeans were getting downright uncomfortable. [Maybe I could... No! You can't do that _here_. Are you nuts?] But now that his mind had suggested it, he couldn't let it go. 

[Why not? No one's here. No one but us chickens.] 

[And if someone comes in?] 

[I'll hear them before they get close. No problem. Just make it look like I'm working.] 

[I can't believe you're gonna do this.] 

Blair knew that he was going to do it. He couldn't _not_ do it -- the idea was just so wickedly exciting. Public sexual acts had never been on his list of things to try, but there was a first time for everything. And the risk was minimal, here. 

[You could go to the bathroom.] 

[No, that's not the point. Besides, I'm comfortable here. It's nice and warm.] 

He shifted in the chair and considered his options. A bit of adjustment with the piles of books and papers and he had an effective screen from the doorway. A handy sweater was at arm's reach, just in case he needed to cover up quickly. [OK, that's it.] 

He let his fingers trace over the seam on the inside of his thigh, drifting closer and closer to the taut material at the crotch. His thumb moved slowly up and down along his length, pressing lightly at first. He gradually increased the pressure and speed, thinking that he could almost come just by doing this. Finally, he couldn't wait any longer and with his left hand he jerked open all the buttons on his jeans. The release from the pressure was exquisite, but it was quickly replaced by a desire for more contact. 

He tugged his jeans down a few inches -- just enough to allow access. His hard cock kept the material up, and when he pulled his clothing down there was a moment of delicious friction. The boxers had a wet spot - this was more exciting than he anticipated. He squirmed a bit on the chair, trying to get comfortable, but vinyl wasn't kind to bare skin. He grabbed the sweater, lifted his hips, and slid it underneath. [Scratchy, but it'll do.] 

[You just better hope no one comes in.] 

[I know, I know.] 

Blair listened intently. [Sentinel senses would be very handy, here.] 

He could only hear his own breathing. Settling back into the chair again, he looked down at his lap. Nervous tension formed in his gut. [This is totally nuts.] But he slid his hand under the elastic of his boxers and wrapped his fingers around the smooth hardness he found there. 

[Yeah] he thought, as he began to move his hand up and down, [totally crazy]. But damn! It felt good. He started breathing faster and his hand sped up. His hair fell in his face as he bent forward, then he threw his head back and closed his eyes. 

He thought of Jim, and of the dream. Touching Jim, kissing him, falling on top of him and moving against him, feeling Jim's hardness... His breathing was irregular now, and his face was flushed. Stray lengths of hair had fallen across his face but he didn't notice. His forearm strained with the effort of keeping the pace. [Oh, Jim...] 

And then [Shit! What was that?] 

He bolted upright in the chair, sure he heard something in the hall. But there was only silence. The chair creaked as he relaxed, and the sound made him jump again. He was breathing hard, now, from the adrenaline rush of fear. 

[Nothing. There's nothing there.] 

Dead silence. Blair's relief transformed into amusement. [This is ridiculous.] He smiled and looked down at himself. [Well, not all of me finds this so funny. And that's the point, right?] Despite the scare, he hadn't lost his desire. 

[All right, let's finish this.] 

One hand pushed the boxers out of the way while his mouth slicked his thumb and fingers. Then he reached down and began again. He let his thumb slide slowly across the head, caressing in a circular pattern until he couldn't stand it. He pictured Jim's tongue following that path and the image spiked his desire. [What would it be like to look down and see him there? To see him between my legs, moving his hot, soft mouth against me...] 

Blair's fist was moving faster as he lost himself in the fantasy. Faster, faster, faster... He arched his back and felt the cool metal of the chair on his neck. [Would Jim kiss me there? Would he?] The thought caused him to arch again, and he couldn't help thrusting his hips. [What would it feel like to fuck that mouth?] To thrust again and again and again into that sweet, serious mouth...again, again, again -- 

[Oh, God, Jim, I'm so close, so close] 

His eyes squeezed shut and Jim's image swam in his mind. Jim giving him an approving pat on the shoulder, Jim laughing, Jim teasing. Then, suddenly the image changed to dream-Jim. The one without any clothes; the one who reached down and stroked himself as if to say "I'm all yours, Blair, all yours". 

[Mine all mine] 

Blair wasn't breathing much now, but his hand continued its relentless pounding and soft sounds punctuated the rhythm. 

[mine all mine all mine] 

And dream-Jim was pumping harder now, his head thrown back to match Blair's, and Blair saw the tension in his shoulder and arm. There was nothing but the relentless -- 

[mine all mine all mine] [oh Jim are you mine?] 

The thought broke him apart and he thrust for the last time, holding there, spilling over his fingers to soak the bunched fabric below, the beautiful image of Jim burned into his mind. 

He sat there for a few moments, collecting his scattered thoughts as his body slowly relaxed. 

"Oh, I wish you were mine," he whispered. 

Removing his hand shifted his focus to more practical matters. [Where's the damn Kleenex box? I know I had some.] But it wasn't anywhere to be found, and he resigned himself to stickiness. [Should've thought this through a bit more.] He hitched up his jeans and stood to button them. 

[Well, that certainly was interesting. Another few points for the purity test. But did it have to be about Jim?] 

His gaze fell upon the notebook sheets spread on his desk. He gathered them together and stuck them back into the backpack. Recalling his original intent to destroy the pages, he laughed to himself. [No, I'm definitely going to keep this around. A memento of this afternoon, if nothing else.] 

[Of course. Nothing else.] 

He picked up his backpack and headed for home, returning the recalled book on his way out. 

Finis. 


End file.
